


Slow Burn

by Kinnon



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-23
Updated: 2016-03-12
Packaged: 2018-01-20 13:20:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1511978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kinnon/pseuds/Kinnon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by a wonderful fic on this site, this is my take on a tragic and loving relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**292 AL  
Storm’s End**

_Renly Baratheon_

Renly sat uncomfortably in the chair that had been his brother’s before him, and his father’s before that. At four and ten he wasn’t officially the Lord of Storm’s End but nonetheless, Ser Cortnay Penrose, regent in his stead, insisted that the young lord assume the duties of the role in spirit if not in practice. And so it was that he played host to a delegation from Highgarden on a day where he would rather be at study with his Maester, hawking with his falcon…or almost anything else in fact.

As a child Renly had lived through the prolonged siege of Storm’s End by the forces of Lord Mace Tyrell, his army camped at the gates as the fleet of Paxter Redwyne blocked Shipbreaker Bay.

He remembered that at four years of age he understood the danger he was in, what would happen if the bad men breached the gate; he remembered the nights of hunger, even after the horses, dogs and cats were gone and turned into brown bowl; of nights where he cried despairing, pitying sobs and clutched his empty belly; most of all he remembered Stannis, so often strong, silent and stern, unflinchingly brave but never comforting, even to the desperate child who followed as his shadow.

The Tyrells were not his favourite people.

The delegation was larger than he had expected, although he shouldn’t have been surprised considering the precious cargo they delivered; Renly was to gain a new page this day and would be expected to train him to Knighthood.

Leading the way down Storm End’s Great Hall was a proud youth of a similar age to himself, with a mop of curly brown hair, a shadow of a beard and already tall and broadly built even at his age. At his hip swung a beautifully crafted scabbard concealing what Renly sure was the finest crafted blade that money could buy; the wealth of the Tyrells was known throughout the Seven Kingdoms and rivalled that of the lions of Lannister. The pommel of the sword was a golden rose that matched those enamelled on his armour. There was only one person this could be.

Ser Cortnay stood at Renly’s shoulder, giving him respect as the resident lord, but ready to step in if necessary. “Garlan Tyrell, my lord,” he whispered softly in Renly’s ear; Renly nodded but said nothing.

At Garlan’s side walked a child who could only be his brother, and the purpose of this visit to the Storm Lands: Loras Tyrell. The child was almost ethereally beautiful with his perfect brown curls, plump and rosy cheeks and bewitching eyes that shone almost golden in the light. The two made eye contact and Renly’s cheeks reddened for reasons he couldn’t explain, forcing him to look away and shift uncomfortably in his seat.

As the group, filled out by knights he had no doubt, approached, Renly took a minute to consider his new charge. He walked with the assuredness of one born into wealth and power, hardly surprising. The jut of his chin gave away a hint of arrogance and self-confidence that seemed older than his ten years and was no doubt unearned. His straight backed gait betrayed his pride, although this was somewhat tempered by the uncertain glance he gave his brother.

The lords of the Reach had come to impress, all except Loras wearing highly polished armour and carrying elaborate arms. Loras himself was dressed simply but richly in a green velvet doublet worn over a yellow shirt and a green, woollen cloak fastened with pins in the shape of roses. It was a striking sight to behold.

As they stopped several paces away, a steward stepped forward. “My lord, may I present Garlan of the House Tyrell, second son of Mace Tyrell, Lord of Highgarden, Defender of the Marches, High Marshall of the Reach and Warden of the South.”

“My lords you are most welcome here,” Renly greeted them warmly. “Warm yourself at our hearth, break bread and salt with us and drink of our wine.” He gestured and serving girls stepped forward with goblets of rich Arbor wine and platters of freshly cooked bread.

Garlan looked surprised at the words coming from the boy in front of him but pleased nonetheless. “Lord Renly, thank you for your generous offer hospitality. The ride from Highgarden has been long and your welcome gratefully received. Allow me to introduce my companions: Ser Garth Hightower of Oldtown; Ser Alekyne Florent, son of Lord Alester Florent and heir to Brightwater Keep; Ser Bryan Fossoway of Cider Hall; and Ser Mark Mullendore of Uplands.”

There was one more introduction remaining and Renly’s eyes were drawn to the smaller figure beside the older Tyrell. “And please let me present my brother, Loras of the House Tyrell who I pass into your care.”

Loras stepped forward and bowed slightly as Renly climbed to his feet. “It is with honour that I accept your brother into my care and my household,” he answered Garlan even as stared at Loras. “You are welcome here, my lord,” Renly said softly to the boy, who looked at him furtively under thick lashes.

There was a moment of awkward silence, and in that time Renly suddenly felt his youth and inexperience. Thankfully, help was on hand.

“My lords,” Ser Cortnay called, “allow our people to show you to your rooms so that you may rest and refresh yourself. We have a banquet planned in your honour this evening.” The knights inclined their heads but said nothing as they turned, Garlan smiled his thanks at Renly and Loras turned to accompany his brother. “Not you, child,” he said addressing the younger Tyrell. “You will accompany the pages to their quarters with your belongings; from tonight you will be sleeping there.”

Loras’s eyes flashed as he looked at the older man. “I am a lord of Highgarden!” he exclaimed incredulously, voice high pitched and angry.

“No, Loras,” Renly said firmly, brow furrowed, “you are a page of Storm’s End and will room with the others.”

Turning to his brother for support, Loras stood, hands on hips. “Garlan, tell them,” he implored, a note of desperation coming into his voice. Renly realised in that moment that Loras had probably never had to share anything with anyone; the idea of suddenly rooming with dozens of other boys must have been terrifying.

With a patience only an older brother could have, Garlan placed his hands on Loras’s shoulders and looked at him tenderly. “They’re right, brother, this is your life now. You dream of being the strongest knight in all the kingdoms don’t you?” Loras nodded reluctantly. “This is how all knights start out. I had to sleep alongside others when I went to the Arbor to serve Lord Redwyne as page, do you remember? And I can assure you that Lord Renly will be a fairer master than our uncle!”

The proud shoulders slumped and Loras slowly turned back to face Renly. There was a sheen across his eyes as he held back the tears he desperately wanted to shed. “I’m sorry, my lord,” he apologised quietly.

Renly bent down slightly so he was at Loras’s height and put a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “This isn’t a punishment, Loras,” he explained softly. “One day you are going to be the most powerful knight the lands have ever seen.”

“Promise?” Loras asked him.

For just a moment the two looked at one another, oblivious to the rest.

Renly nodded with a smile. “I promise.


	2. Chapter 2

**292 AL  
Storm’s End**

_Renly Baratheon_

The evening started as many other banquets had. Rows of huge tables had been dragged into and set up in the Great Hall, braziers and chandeliers lit and set high onto the walls and ceiling and musicians tuning and playing softly to the side. Ser Cortnay insisted that as the Lord of Storm’s End Renly oversee the preparations.

The servants had always been organised into a well-oiled machine, blending into the background around highborn guests, attentive but not overbearing when serving and keeping the cogs turning in a quiet and efficient manner. That was very much in evidence today.

There was nothing particular for Renly to do except watch and sample the sweet delights that the kitchen were making.

The huge kitchens in the bowels of the keep were awash with noise and movement. So focussed were the chefs on their tasks that they barely registered the arrival of their liege lord. Renly stood to the side of the pastry chef, longingly staring at pile of pastries that was beginning to pile above the bench. His hand snuck out to grab one but was intercepted by the heavy wooden spoon of one of the chefs who turned, swearing.

“Put that down boy! Oh…my lord!” she exclaimed, “I am so sorry, I thought you were one of the kitchen boys!” She bent her head, blushing as she did so.

Renly put a gentle hand on her should. “Don’t apologise, Nolly, it’s my fault for being greedy and disrupting your hard work.” He smiled at her, the smile that melted hearts and made him so beloved of the people in his care. It was to his credit that he didn’t know.

“Can I help?” he asked, looking curiously at the sheets of pastry she was cutting and preparing. Renly was never allowed to help do anything in the kitchen, not even when he snuck in when the castle was asleep and he thought no one was watching.

Nolly and the others around her looked at him in horror. “Oh no, my lord, you can’t be making your own food! What would people think? Ser Cortnay would be angry at us.” She took a step in front of her bench as if protecting it from him.

He was not yet old enough to stop the look of disappointed from passing across his face as he nodded at her sadly and walked up the stairs out of the kitchen. He reached the back entrance to the Great Hall and once again heard Ser Cortnay bellowing instructions at people. As he meandered his way through the halls of the main keep there was nothing that he could do, nothing that caught his eye.

Eventually he found himself on the battlements above the yards. The practice yard was a clang of steel on steel and the hiss of arrows being loosed. Renly didn’t enjoy the arts of war, though he was trained and forced to practice on a daily basis. He had enough skill with a sword that he wouldn’t be the first to fall on a battlefield, but nothing more than that, but he enjoyed the bow. And he was good with it. Although only four and ten he could already shoot an apple off of the head of a dummy at thirty paces.

For a moment he was going to join the archers and then stopped when he saw a golden haired figured standing opposite him on the battlements.

Since being dismissed earlier, his newest page hadn’t shown his face. Loras was as proud as Renly was, but from the reputation he came with, would be more use in battle. And although he still had a cuteness that came with childhood, would be a beautiful youth and handsome man in his time.

The thought made Renly’s stomach jolt and a puzzled look crossed his face.

He thought about going to join Loras, about getting to know the young boy but stopped himself. It wouldn’t do to show favouritism to him, especially as he paid so little attention to his other two pages. But something about Loras piqued his interest and he wasn’t entirely sure that it was an interest he should have.

A heavy hand landed on his shoulder and jolted him from his reverie. “My lord,” spoke the gruff voice of his castellan. “It is time for you to get ready. You must host this evening for our guests.” Renly nodded but continued to stare across the ramparts. Ser Cortnay followed his gaze. “He’s going to be difficult that one. You will need to have a firm hand with him.”

“I…I’ll try, Ser, I’ll try. So many things are still strange to me, training pages and squires are one of them.” There was so much uncertainty in the young lord’s life, and in the absence of any kind of father figure, Ser Cortnay was as near as it got. But even he kept his distance.

For a second though, the barrier came down and Renly was treated to a rare paternal gaze from the old man. “I know that you try, Renly, I can see that. But you will have to stay strong with Loras for other reasons.” With those wise and cryptic words he turned on his heel and strode away, shouting orders as he did so.

Renly returned to his chambers to be greeted by one of his pages who looked at him with impatience and frustration. His bed was covered in clothes and the young boy in front of him clearly had no idea how to dress his lord.

“My lord!” he exclaimed, “time is running out and we must select clothes for this evening!” The boy was two and ten and due to be promoted to squire. As the son of a lesser lord, it was for the honour of his House he served the Lord of Storm’s End. But the boy was useless in every regard. His family may have been expecting a knighthood at some point but he would have to work hard to earn it.

Renly sighed and gritted his teeth. “The black trousers, black silk shirt, yellow doublet – not that one, the velvet one with the black stag buttons – and bring me the stag pin that mother left me.” The boy looked at him, exasperated that Renly could do in seconds what he had spent an hour attempting and failing to do.

“Draw me a bath and then get ready yourself. I expect you in Baratheon colours, although you can wear a silk shirt of your own colours. Tell the others the same.” Ser Cortnay was right, he had to be tougher with his pages. Had to be a lord and not simply play the part of one. The boy was out the door when Renly had a change of mind. “On second thoughts, tell Loras to dress in his House colours, but this is the last night he is to do so.”

A few hours later Renly was ensconced at the high table receiving his guests. In honour of the two Tyrells, many of the lords and ladies of the Storm Lands had come to attend the banquet and he knew each of them by name. He drank goblet after goblet of wine, but had instructed the serving girls in advance to water his down significantly; one thing Renly had was an innate talent for keeping up appearances.

One by one the lords of the Reach entered the hall and bowed before him. Tall Mark Mullendore with a monkey sat on his shoulder eating a piece of fruit; Garth Hightower, the oldest of the group who travelled with Loras and utterly devoid of humour; Bryan Fossoway who smiled at Renly; and Alekyne Florent, arrogant and self assured with a look that set Renly on edge.

Then finally came the brothers from House Tyrell.

Garlan, taller and broader than Renly and with an easy smile that made all he looked at blush. He walked down the hall slowly, stopping to murmur greetings to the highborn of the Storm Lands who approached him. He wore green trousers, a golden shirt and a golden thread doublet with green ivy and flowers expensively detailed. His brother was his mirror, in clothes and the look on his face. It was clear that he did not welcome the attention and would rather be anywhere other than Storm’s End.

“My lord,” Garlan greeted him extending a hand, “this is a marvellous spectacle and we are honoured that you have gone to all this trouble.” Renly decided in this moment that he liked Garlan very much.

“No trouble, my lord Tyrell,” Renly answered. He looked briefly at Loras and the two locked eyes. “You are not impressed, Loras?”

The young boy glared at him. “I do not know such pretty words as you and my brother…my lord.” He looked down at his feet as Garlan nudged him heavily with his arm.

Renly laughed at them; he wished he had that easy intimacy with his own brothers who were so often like strangers to him. “Speak freely, Loras, this is a celebration, not a time for unhappy looks.”

“I’m just sad, my lord, I won’t get to go back to Highgarden for quite some time and will miss my brother.” The brown eyes glistened and Loras had to hold back his tears. When he looked up next there was an impish look on his face. “Can I have some wine?”

A look passed between Renly and Garlan, and the other boy gave nothing away, merely looking at the young Baratheon. “Yes,” Renly answered, “but not much and it must be watered down. Now please, for the love of the Seven, go and enjoy yourself.”

Loras skipped off towards the other pages, a goblet of wine far too big for him in his hands, but a smile on his face. It was then that Renly realised that there was little he would deny this boy if just to see the smile on his face.

He sighed then, deeply and loudly, and for a moment forgot there were people around him. Garlan took a step forward then, and the look on his face was suddenly much older and wiser than his five and ten years.

“Renly,” he said softly, placing a hand convivially on his shoulder and drawing him close. “You are the lord here and will do what you must. But be careful.”

Enjoying the feeling of physical intimacy with the other boy, Renly did not pull away. “You think that your brother will find it too hard here? That he will find it difficult to settle? Or do you think that he will cause trouble?”

Garlan exhaled softly, choosing his words carefully. “I don’t mean be careful with my brother, I mean be careful with your heart.”

He patted his shoulder a few times and then walked away, leaving Renly speechless.


	3. Chapter 3

**292 AL**

**Storm’s End**

_Loras Tyrell_

Loras has been at Storm’s End for six months and after an initially rocky start, had settled in well to life at the keep. After a few scrapes with some of the other pages, and one antagonistic squire, he had found his place in the pecking order. By courtesy of birth, and an innate talent with, he found himself spending a lot of time attending to Renly. Closely watched by Ser Courtney of course.

They hadn’t initially got on well; Loras was an entitled brat and Renly was so unsure of himself that he Loras found it infuriating. But then they’d settled into a routine and things got better. It helped that Renly’s other two pages were useless boys who had no initiative and Loras liked to take charge.

After six months they had started to build something that Loras was beginning to think of as a friendship, though Renly could be so distant at times that he couldn’t fathom it. Today, for example, was one of Renly’s distant days.

Loras had woken at his usual time in the dorm that the pages shared. He was the first awake as usual. After washing his face, he hurried to the practice yard. Despite his young years, Loras was charming and had a knack for gathering people to him. The Master-at-Arms, a gruff knight from a minor Storm Lands family, had been resistant until he witnessed the boy’s skill with a sword. From then on they had extra practice sessions at dawn.

After an hour it was time to wash and dress properly for his day in service; the other pages still hadn’t risen and he let them sleep. Let them receive the sharp end of Ser Courtney’s tongue! He had collected Renly’s breakfast of fruit, cheese and bread and a glass of watered down Arbor red to wash it all down and carefully carried it up to his suite.

Normally, he would have to wake his lord, but today he found Renly sitting on the ledge of the open window, staring out at the calm sea and blue sky.

Uncertain, the silver tray shook in Loras’ hands, causing Renly to turn sharply. “My…my lord, I did not mean to disturb you.” He bowed his head slightly, cheeks reddening in embarrassment.

Green eyes narrowed and then relaxed. “It’s fine, Loras,” Renly said, waving him into the room. “Put the tray on the desk and then leave me.”

“But my lord, I need to help you bathe and dress!” the young page exclaimed. Loras caught himself and lowered his head again, shocked at his outburst. Technically Loras didn’t help Renly bathe, the young lord wouldn’t allow it, but Loras would run his bath and warm his towels.

Renly shook his head. “Not today, one of the others can help me. I’m releasing you to Ser Courtney, you can find him in the Great Hall.” He turned back to the window, ending the conversation without another word. It was then that Loras realised his lord was still dressed in his bed clothes. Something wasn’t quite right.

Unbidden, tears rose to his eyes and Loras had to supress a sob. “But why? What have I done wrong?” He knew that it wasn’t his place to question his lord, it wasn’t his place to disagree, but the young page had begun to care for the older boy and in that moment he was every one of his ten years.

Renly sighed softly and turned, his hair, black as a raven, falling gently over his eyes. “You haven’t done anything, Loras, I have no problems with your service. But…it’s not good for the others that you are the only one who tends to me. It will do us both good for you to assist Ser Courtney today.”

Lip trembling, Loras searched for words that would make him seem the dignified noble he knew he should be. He failed. “I don’t want to serve Ser Courtney! I want to be with you!” With that he hurtled across the room and barrelled into Renly’s side, throwing his arms around his waist.

The tears came freely now, and Loras sobbed into Renly’s shirt. At first Renly held his arms away, afraid to touch the boy, but slowly he wrapped his arms around his page. Although he was becoming more muscled by the day, Loras was still much smaller than Renly, and the other boy gathered him in his arms and pulled him onto his knee.

Loras pressed his head against Renly’s chest as his shoulders shuddered with the tears that he could not explain. Renly said nothing, but had one hand placed protectively on his back and the other stroking the brown curls of his hair. They sat like that for minutes, Loras’s tears slowly and then stopping, Renly turning his gaze back to the sea.

Ever since he had left Highgarden, Loras had been desperately homesick. He missed his parents and their boundless love. Willas and his books, his kind smile and his patience with his younger brother. He missed Garlan and his determination, and the hours they spent sparring and training. And he missed Margaery the most. A year separated them but they were two sides of the same coin.

But now he had Renly and that made up for all the nights he had cried himself to sleep and he could not understand why he was sending him away.

Before he could ask the door to the chamber swung open and Ser Courtney stood there, eyes blazing as he observed the scene in front of him. Loras froze, unaware of the icy glance that Renly gave the older man. Gently, the lord of Storm’s End untangled Loras from him and set him on the ground.

“Loras, go and wait for Ser Courtney in the Hall. No questions,” he added, forestalling any argument.

Loras for his part did not argue and meekly left the room. He looked up at Ser Courtney as he passed, but the man had locked eyes with Renly, though not a word was being said between them. Loras could not work out was the problem was. He and Renly were friends and they had a closeness that came easily, surely that was a good thing?

Wiping his eyes, his thoughts turned to Renly’s name day and what he was going to give him. His father had sent him off with a small pile of coins that he had hidden in his room, and he planned a trip to market soon. Just as the inner door closed behind him, Loras heard something that stopped him dead.

“Renly! I have warned you about that boy…” he heard Ser Courtney start before his muffled voice became lost behind the heavy door.

What Loras couldn’t work out was, why was Renly being warned about him?


	4. Chapter 4

**295 AL**

**Storm’s End**

_Renly Baratheon_

It was the height of summer and there was a sweet scent of roses in the air. Ever since Loras’s arrival three years earlier, the gardeners had started planting roses of all colours in the gardens both within and without the walls of the keep. It was a sign of how loved he was by the people of Storm’s End.

Having never been one for flowers, Renly found that he loved the smell of roses. A vase of freshly cut roses stood on his bed stand, a flourish of different colours with a single rose of such bright yellow that it almost looked golden. It was gesture that was secret from the world and only for him.

Today was Renly’s name day, his eighteenth and the day that he alone ruled over Storm’s End and by extension, the Storm Lands.

To mark the occasion Renly was holding a week’s worth of games and competitions, culminating in the largest feast the Seven Kingdoms would have seen since the King’s wedding to the Lannister woman. It was grossly expensive and had caused numerous arguments with Ser Courtney Penrose who had faithfully, and responsibly, watched over Renly’s holdings in his stead for years.

But it was his time, his treasury and at his discretion that the week was happening. 

Neither of his brothers was able to attend, which was hardly a surprise. The Baratheon brothers were not a close bunch.

Robert spent his time hunting, whoring and drinking and frankly, Renly could be doing without it. The king was jovial, and generous to a fault at times, but he was also fatally narcissistic and hopelessly self-centred. That he had married a sly bitch of a wife just made it better that they would not be attending. And those children…well, the less said the better.

As for Stannis. The two were never close, but he would be eternally thankful for his brother during the long siege of Storm’s End that had marked his childhood. He admired Stannis’s strength and courage. Renly was jealous of his tactical acumen and skill with arms. But he didn’t like him.

Stannis was a resentful, petty man who would forever live in the shadow of his two brothers. Robert, as King of the realm, cast a larger shadow than anyone alive. And Renly was beloved by the Seven Kingdoms for his charm, intelligence and good looks. Stannis was a dull grey to Robert and Renly’s bright yellow stars.

But out of the two brothers, only Stannis had sent him a gift. If it could be called that.

“Uncle Renly!” came the shout of the small boy who sprinted through the Great Hall where Renly was overseeing the preparations for his feast.

A smile crept across his face as Renly watched his nephew make his way to him. Edric Storm, bastard born to Robert and Delena Florent, had been sent to Storm’s End by Stannis as a slight against Renly and a punishment for the child who had no say in how he came into this world. But it had backfired. Edric was a joy and had breathed new life into Storm’s End. Renly had bonded with the boy immediately and had bask in the glow of a family connection he had longed for.

Renly held his arms out and Edric launched himself into them, laughing. Uncle and nephew were more like father and son at times, and Renly took his obligation to the child seriously. He was determined to show Edric the love that he needed, and that Renly had lacked from his brothers.

The two collapsed in a heap on the floor, and the servants couldn’t help but laugh at their young lords. “I beat Loras at swords!” Edric exclaimed with pride. “He fell over and I won!”

“You did? I’m so proud!” Renly told him, sitting up on one elbow. “Loras is going to be the best knight in the land so you must be very good.” He smiled at Edric as he climbed to his feet and started fencing with an imaginary sword. 

Edric spun on the spot and stabbed at an unknown foe. “No I will be! You’ll see!” And with that he turned and ran back through the hall towards the courtyard. He stopped when Loras stepped through the door, carrying a pair of wooden sparring swords. “Tell Uncle Renly I beat you!” Edric demanded, grabbing Loras’s free hand.

“He really is very good, my lord,” Loras said with pride. He had taken it up on himself to teach Edric everything he knew and by the sounds of it, he was coming on well. “Now, young lord,” he said, turning towards Edric, “you have duties to undertake. Take the swords, clean them off and return them to the armoury. These are the things a squire must do,” he finished solemnly. Edric nodded his head seriously and sped off with the swords without a word.

Renly frowned as Loras continued walking towards him. “He isn’t going to be a squire, Loras, don’t give the boy hope where there is none.” The servants around them discretely stepped away, giving the illusion of privacy even while they listened.

At thirteen Loras had grown out of the cuteness that he had as a child and was already handsome. He was almost as tall as Renly but broader and well muscled, a sign of the hours of training he did every week. His curly brown hair was long, past his jaw now and he had a smile that melted hearts. And those eyes…

By comparison, Renly at eighteen had grown his raven black hair long and was the mirror image of his brother Robert when he was younger. He was handsome, with a strong jaw and bright green eyes that drew people to him. He had an easy smile and kind disposition that endeared people to him the older he got.

They made quite a pair to look at.

“I know, my lord, but the boy desperately wants to be a knight and knows the traditional path. These are skills he will need when he is older, and he really is very good,” Loras said, smiling at him.

On his twelfth name day, Renly had named Loras as a squire of Storm’s End as an acknowledgement of how far he had come. The boy was already better with a sword than older squires so it was a justified move. And expected by his powerful father. Since then they hadn’t had much course to spend time together, but since Edric had arrived Loras had taken him under his wing so they had been forced together more often than not.

A serving girl approached them gingerly at that point, breaking the look brewing between them. “My lord, the kitchen need to know what wine you would like for tonight’s feast. They say we have ample barrels of Arbor gold, Dornish red and an apricot wine from Meereen.” She hung her head, afraid to look at her liege lord.

“All of them,” Renly said forcefully. This is to be the best feast Storm’s End has ever seen! Tap the barrels and let the wine flow! And after dinner I want a barrel of wine opened in the kitchen for all the servants to share. This is a joyous day!”

“Thank you, my lord!” she exclaimed happily, finally looking at him. She turned on her heel and ran towards the staircase leading to the kitchen, following swiftly by half a dozen other servants wondering what was going on.

Loras looked at him with a curious look on his face. “That’s kind of you, my lord, but quite unnecessary. The servants do not expect anything from you.”

“That’s the point, Loras. They work hard and this is a special occasion after all.” He shrugged like it was a small gesture, but they both knew differently.

“That is an…unusual thing to hear from someone in your position,” Loras mused. 

Renly stepped closer to him, his breath warm on Loras’s cheek. “And what is my position, Loras?” he asked quizzically. Loras smiled and opened his mouth to answer, but his eyes glanced over Renly’s shoulder and he shut his mouth.

Glowering at them both, Ser Courtney Penrose stood on the dais at the end of the hall, in front of the long tables set up for Renly and his guests. He said nothing, he had said enough in years gone by, but stared at them both intently. Loras bent his head, turned and walked away; Renly merely looked at Ser Courtney and raised an eyebrow.

“Are preparations ready for my guests, Ser Courtney?” Renly asked sweetly.

Clearing his throat, Ser Courtney’s tone was controlled and even. “Yes, my lord. I was coming to tell you that the Tyrells are approaching, you should greet them at the gates. They will be here within the hour. The boy does not need to be there,” he finished sternly.

“You expect Loras not to be there to greet his own family?” Renly asked with a raised eyebrow. “We both know that that wouldn’t be proper. Please ask Loras to meet me in an hour.” The two locked eyes and there was a battle of titanic proportions being waged. The balance had shifted and they both knew it. Renly valued Ser Courtney’s guidance, and thought of him as a father, but he was lord now.

Saying nothing, the older man nodded his agreement and left the hall. Renly watched him go.

An hour later and Renly was finally happy with the preparations.

The walls had been draped with the livery of the nobles of the Storm Lands. Behind the dais at the end of the hall hung the banners of the Baratheon’s and the Tyrell’s, Renly’s honoured guests. The tables had been highly polished and set with the most spectacular dinnerware that Storm’s End had to offer. Bowls of coloured glass filled with coloured water filled with summer flowers were arrayed down the centre of the tables. The floral tones filled the air with a glorious scent. Thick white candles set into wrought iron chandeliers hung suspended above the scene below.

Musicians would play the night away, wine would flow endlessly and his guests would dance the night away. Renly was pleased.

He had had just enough time to change before making his way to the gates. Not wanting to be ostentatious he had opted for simply cut clothing in the Baratheon colours of yellow and black. Loras, as Renly’s squire, had opted to do the same, though he wore golden brooch in the shape of a rose as acknowledgement of his home.

The two stood, side by side and in silence just inside the gate house at the end of the bridge that led to the keep. Behind them, arrayed in rows, where servants and grooms ready to carry luggage, tend to horses and provide beverages to sooth against the long ride. Ser Courtney had opted to remain within the keep and make sure that Storm’s End was ready to receive their guests.

As he watched the Tyrell host coming across the bridge, Renly let his arms fall to his sides and for the briefest moment, their hands touched. Loras linked the tips of his fingers with Renly’s and the connection was instantaneous. They looked at one another and it seemed to last a lifetime.

Then Renly pulled away.


	5. Chapter 5

**295 AL**

**Storm’s End**

_Renly Baratheon_

The Tyrell’s arrival was met with all the pageantry and flourish that was to be expected. Lord Mace and his wife sent their apologies, and in their place came Willas and Garlan. The oldest Tyrell brother was everything that Loras had said he was. Handsome like the others, quiet and thoughtful with fiercely intelligent eyes.

Loras had held his composure for the length of time it took for his brothers to climb off their horses and then threw himself at them.

Renly left them alone. He was pleased for Loras that the three were back together again, but couldn’t help but feel jealous at their obvious closeness. He had never had that with his own brothers and never would; they were each too different.

He withdrew to his chambers, content that plans were in place and would be followed and he had no need to entertain his guests just yet.   He had already given Loras the rest of his day to be with family and was in no need of a page or squire so was content in the quiet of his own space.

At eighteen he knew it would not be long until he was expected to take up a position in King’s Landing at the court of his brother. Whether or not that meant a seat on the Small Council he did not know, but Renly was politically astute enough to know he needed to make connections now.

For more than a year he had been in contact with Lord Varys and Little Finger, cultivating relationships and building alliances. He was no fool. Relationships like that came at a cost, and both would step on his neck to ascend the ladder of power quicker than he could blink. Robert left the bulk of his ruling to Jon Arryn, the Hand of the King, and the others participated when it was convenient for them to do so.

Sitting at his desk, that which had once been his fathers, he finished his correspondence, started the day before and thought about all that was to come for him.

Soon he’d be expected to marry, a prospect that terrified him. His bride would likely be chosen for him, or at the very least, pushed in his direction, and would bring with her power and influence. That immediately narrowed the pool. It would be a marriage of convenience, he knew that much, and knew that he would never love her. There was a secret about himself that he never dwelt on, but it lurked in his heart, and was the reason he could never love his bride.

Regardless, there would come a point when the summons came and he would be on his way to King’s Landing to play the game of thrones with the rest of them. The thought rather excited him.   Scheme, move, counter move. It was all one big game where the smartest and quickest would win. Renly was confident he could keep up. His brothers managed it and he was by far the smartest of the three.

Renly spent the rest of the day musing on what was to come, and as the sunset, called for a page to run his bath. He had chosen his clothes, expensive cuts in velvet and cashmere as befitting his status.

He arrived to a full Great Hall and was greeted warmly with applause from all. It made him proud to engender such love and respect from the people assembled.

As he walked the length of the hall he stopped to give his thanks to some of the nobles from the Storm Lands. He was genuinely happy to see them, knowing that he had their support. The people of the Storm Lands were the best he knew.

On the dais sat the lords and ladies of some of the most powerful families, his allies and friends. Elden Estermont, his mother’s brother and head of that noble house sat to his right. The young lord of Blackhaven, Beric Dondarrion beyond him. Lord Arstan Selmy and Guilian Swann sat to the end of the table, arguing over harvests and crops.

To his left sat the delegation from the Reach. Garlan Tyrell beside him, and Willas and their accompanying lords further down the table. Loras was sat with the other squires, despite his protestations. It would not have been proper for him to sit at the high table on the dais so he was relegated to a lesser table further down the hall.

“Your health, my lord,” said Garlan softly, lifting his goblet in Renly’s direction. Renly did the same but said nothing. “This is quite the show that you have put on,” he continued, looking out over the hall. “I approve!”

Renly took a long gulp as he looked out at smiling, laughing faces. “It was worth all the work that went into it,” Renly told him. “I like seeing people having a good time, it’s what life is all about, don’t you think?”

Garlan said nothing, but looked at Renly curiously. “How is my brother as your squire? Doing his duty I should hope?”

Suddenly uncomfortable, Renly shrugged. “We had a rough start, but I’m sure that he’s told you that in his letters.” He signalled to a nearby server to fill their goblets and quickly drained his again. “He is going to be the strongest knight in this land one day,” he mused, almost to himself.

“You did promise him that the first time you met,” Garlan reminded him. “He speaks of you a lot in his letters, Renly, he is…fond of you.” The last comment was accompanied by a wink that made Renly turn scarlet.

“He’s thirteen, Garlan, he’s fond of everyone,” was all he could respond. He took a second to really look at the older Tyrell. In the three years since they’d seen each other Garlan had matured into a man. His hair was darker than Loras’s and shorter, his curls looser. He was clean shaven today and those eyes…all the damned Tyrell’s seemed to have them. And despite the layers of clothing it was clear that his body was knotted with muscle.

Garlan laughed, loud and hearty. “He likes everyone, this is different. But I think you know that.” Renly said nothing. “Still Loras will have to learn there are things in life that we can’t always have, at least not straight away.”

“I doubt there’s anything in life that you have been unable to have, my lord,” Renly said frankly. Almost absentmindedly he looked around the hall and his eyes travelled to the squires table. Loras was laughing with the other squires while two serving girls looked at him longingly. Despite being only thirteen, it was not unknown for boys of his age to already be stealing maidenheads, but not Loras.

“There’s nothing I’ve wanted I haven’t been able to have,” came the soft reply. Renly looked at the other lord and there was a hint of suggestion looking back at him. Suddenly confused, Renly wasn’t sure what they were talking about now. How did they go from Loras to…whatever this was?

Renly picked a bunch of grapes from the platter of fruit still on the table, trying to think of something to change the subject with. Maybe he wouldn’t be so cut out for life at court after all. “Your brother tells me you have been matched to Leonette Fossoway. My congratulations.”

Garlan smiled widely at him, and it was the smile of a hunter stalking his prey. “Thank you, my lord. She is a slight and delicate girl, and is already in the confidences of my sister. We will be very happy I think.”

He swallowed the last of his wine and gestured for more. “I have no doubt. If I am half as lucky when my time comes I will consider myself a lucky man.”

“Have you thought about marriage?” Garlan asked. “I should imagine that as the brother of the king, eligible women will be lining up soon.” There was something teasing about the way Garlan asked that made Renly uncomfortable.

“It hasn’t been mentioned yet, but no doubt it’s just a matter of time. In the absence of my parents it will no doubt fall to my brother and the queen to oversee a match. Unless I find a bride myself.” Yet again, his eyes strayed across the room.

“And is there someone?” Garlan asked him curiously.

Renly thought about it before he answered. “No, no one. At the moment at least. But who knows when the right person will come along.”

“Person?” Garlan asked. “Well indeed. Have you had a woman yet?”

The question was so frank and direct that it caught Renly completely off guard. He looked around, embarrassed that others would hear the question. Willas was deep in conversation with Mark Mullendore on Garlan’s other side, and Renly’s uncle Elden has left his seat and was holding court further down the table. It was just Renly and Garlan.

“No,” he answered quietly, cheeks hot with shame. He knew that it would be expected of him.

“There are many pleasures that can be found in the body of another,” Garlan told him rather matter of fact. “There is a moment of pure clarity when…well, I’d recommend you find out for yourself.” Garlan reached his hand out and softly touched Renly’s. There was a spark of something there. “I’ll soon be married, and never again be with anyone but my wife. Oh I know that many men cheat and rut with others, but not Tyrell’s. We are loyal. Well you know that already.”

“Are you looking to fit in as much…clarity, as you can, my lord?” Renly asked him, pulling his hand away.

For a moment Garlan looked hurt and shamed. “Not as much, but the right…clarity. Can I ask, have you had my brother?” Renly shook his head. “But you want to?” This time he got no reaction. “You have had no one, I am offering you a chance to address that.” There it was, an offer, simple and straight forward.

“How…I mean…why would…” Renly was lost for words. But as he looked at Garlan, really looked at him, he knew what he wanted. Then his thoughts turned to Loras and he felt guilty for reasons he could not explain.

“The how of it I will show you,” Garlan said quietly. “As for the why of it. Well, I like you Renly, and I will love Leonette when we are married. But we are not married yet.” He looked down the hall and saw his younger brother watching them both. “And you are not promised to Loras. Not yet.”

Nothing more was said as the plates were cleared and tables moved to make room for dancing. Renly did his duty and danced with the ladies of the Storm Lands, flattering them with his pretty words and elegant dancing. It was expected of him, and he was glad to do his duty.

The servers handed out goblets of sweet wine and bite sized chocolate treats, and as the night went on, the squires and pages disappeared with stolen flagons of wine. The assembled nobles split off into small groups when they weren’t dancing and it became clear where alliances lay. It amused Renly that even on an occasion such as this the game still continued.

Needing some fresh air, he left his latest dance partner, Lady Mertyns, to her husband and slipped out of the hall through the servant’s entrance. Rather than go down to the kitchen, he headed up to the battlements, seeking the sky.

As he stepped out into the cool air, he thought back to what had happened already. Garlan filled his thoughts, and Renly couldn’t help but imagine kissing those lips and running his hands through those curls. Then the face of Loras came, unbidden and for once, unwelcome into this mind.

The guards saw him arrive and discretely left him alone on the battlements, finding their way into the towers at either end of the walkway. He was grateful for the space. The breeze felt good against his skin, and the clear sky and bright stars offered promise. So distracted was he that he missed the sound of footsteps climbing the stairs after him.

“You always look for the sky when you need to think,” came a soft voice from behind him. He turned and saw Loras watching him from the doorway of the tower. The squire seemed older than his years as he looked at Renly and his eyes seemed to sparkle in the starlight.

Renly looked away from him and frowned. “You know me well, Loras.”

Loras walked to him and looked out over the battlements, his shoulder touching Renly’s gently. Renly leant into the contact and relished the feeling of Loras beside him. They said nothing to one another for ten minutes or more, enjoying the silence. Loras was his squire, his young squire at that.

Renly made a decision.

Turning away, he started towards the doorway when Loras’s hand caught his. They looked at each other, and Renly opened his mouth to speak but could say nothing. “Renly…” it was the first time Loras had said his name. Renly pulled his hand away and then reached up and placed it tenderly on Loras’s cheek.

Then he continued on his way and was gone. He did not head the quiet sob that followed him.

As he made his way back into the Great Hall he could see that festivities were in full swing. The women were dancing, in some cases with each other, and the men were huddled in conversation, bouts of raucous laughter floating from one side of the room to the other.

Ser Courtney was deep in conversation with Willas Tyrell, who had produced a book from somewhere and gesticulating at something on the page. Mark Mullendore sat, monkey on his shoulder and a serving girl on each knee. Beric Dondarrion appeared to be re-enacting a battle using condiments on the high table with Garth Hightower, Bryan Fossoway and Guilian Swann pitching in. His nephew was asleep under Renly’s seat, so he quietly asked a nearby guard to carry him back to his room; it was just too much for the boy.

From the din of noise and see of faces he was still able to pick out Garlan. The two locked eyes and Garlan tilted his head in a question. Renly smiled and nodded his head. Nothing more needed to be said and Garlan made his way towards the young lord of Storm’s End.

They left by a side door. Renly had grown up in Storm’s End, he knew every twist turn and passageway better than the servants. He took Garlan’s calloused hand and led him through the castle, pulling him close. As they approached the Baratheon wing of the keep, Garlan’s other hand found its way to Renly’s hip and stayed there, the feeling unknown but exhilarating to him.

How they managed to avoid any servants Renly would never know.

The door closed into the antechamber and Renly found himself spun around and pushed against the wall. Garlan’s fingers locked with his and his hands were held above his head. The two just looked at each other, a happy smile on Garlan’s face and an uncertain look on Renly’s.

“Is this what you want?” Garlan asked him, eyes searching his. Renly kissed him, a hard, desperate kiss that was all the answer that was needed. Years of pent up frustration and desire let itself out and Renly knew the secret he had carried for so long was no longer secret.

They made their way to the bedroom, bodies pressed against one another, lips locked and clothes being peeled off as they went. The night definitely gave Renly the clarity that he had been searching for his whole life.

He woke the next morning with his head on Garlan’s chest, the other man’s hard arms wrapped around him. He was scared to move, as if that would destroy his memory of the night before.

“Morning,” Garlan murmured, tightening his arms around Renly. His groin locked with Renly’s hip and it was clear that Garlan’s body hadn’t forgotten what had gone before.

Renly kissed his chest. “Good morning.” He was so happy at this moment that he almost couldn’t believe it. “About last night…”

Garlan chuckled. “Last night was wonderful, everything I hoped it would be. I hope you feel the same.” Renly nodded. “I am here for one more night. We could…?”

“Yes,” Renly said sharply. “Please.”

Neither of them had heard the door to the bedroom chamber open.

A tray crashed onto the floor, and both men shot up, Renly pulling the sheet around him and Garlan for modesty. Loras stood there, mouth ajar, eyes blazing as he looked at them both. The look on his face was somewhere between devastation and murderous intent.

“How could you do this to me?” he screamed at them both.


	6. Chapter 6

**295 AL**

**Storm’s End**

_Loras Tyrell_

Loras was reeling from what he had just seen, mind whirling and tears streaming from his eyes.  He ran as fast as he could, looking to put as much distance between himself and what he had seen as he could, as if that would erase the memory or make it untrue.

The sight of Renly and Garlan, of Renly’s head nestled affectionately on Garlan’s chest infuriated him.  It should have been _his_ chest that Renly lay on, his fingers that intertwined with Renly’s.  His lips that kissed Renly’s.  His body that… Loras may have only been thirteen, but he knew what happened when two people lay together.

One of the older squires told him one night while they gulped a stolen goblet of wine between them.  In exquisite detail he explained what would happen when a man and a woman were together.  Then he told him what happened when two men lay together.  The other boy was only a year older but to Loras, he seemed wise and knowledgeable. 

The two of them had exchanged a flurried, physical embrace involving hands and mouth that had confirmed for Loras what he always suspected: he had no desire to lay with a woman.

That anonymous encounter meant nothing and never happened again.  It was meaningless and just a practice run for when Renly noticed him.  But this, the two men he loved the most in life laying together…that changed everything.  Renly was _his_ , Garlan had no business being with him.

And why didn’t Renly notice him?!

Even as the petulant though came to his mind he knew the answer.  Loras was a boy of ten and three, Garlan was a man grown.

Without realising, Loras had left the gates of the keep and passed across the bridge at full sprint, not stopping to acknowledge the people he passed who called him name and waved.  He could see the treeline ahead and planned to go a nearby meadow.  What he needed now was space and time to be alone with his thoughts.  He knew Ser Courtney would be cross and punish him for being missing, but he didn’t care.

The salty tears stopped, though his eyes still stung from them.  He stopped running and his chest heaved a little with sobs.  Taking deep breaths he tried to close his eyes, but all he could see in his mind was Renly and Garlan together.

He leant against a tree and sunk down on his haunches.  Loras was suddenly so tired, his whole body aching, his eyes begging to close. 

Giving in, he lay down, crossed his arms and put his head on them.  And then all he knew was the blessed dark.


	7. Chapter 7

**295 AL**

**Storm’s End**

_Garlan Tyrell_

Garlan’s first thought was one of horror at his brother seeing him and Renly lying on the bed together.  His next was of guilt as it became crystal clear how his brother felt about Renly and how much of a betrayal he would see this as. 

Finally he thought about himself, about the night before and the depth of his feelings for Renly, which were much deeper than he had dared admit to himself.

Renly had jumped up from the bed, throwing the sheet behind him and was running naked across the room towards the antechamber.  It became clear in that moment as well that Renly felt something for Loras, despite the latter still being a boy.

“Renly!” he called out, scrambling to his feet.  “Renly, stop!  You can’t go out there with no clothes on.”  It was the only thing that Garlan could think of to stay that would stop him in his tracks.

The ingrained sense of nobility that he had stopped Renly where he stood.  He turned towards Garlan, face stricken with panic.  “What have I done?” he asked, wide eyed.  Stopping half way across the antechamber, he waved his hands about and opened his eyes, but no words came out.

Garlan walked towards him slowly, hands at his side.  “You did nothing wrong,” he said, reaching for Renly’s hands.  “ _We_ did nothing wrong.”  Unconsciously, Renly reached out and took Garlan’s hands and a spark charged between them.

“But Loras…” Renly started before melting against Garlan’s body.  Garlan blushed as his body reacted to Renly’s in a very obvious way.  The two of them fit together like lock and key, and Garlan’s arms wrapped around the top of Renly’s shoulders and pulled him close.

“Loras will understand, Renly,” Garlan said softly.  “Not now, and maybe not in the next few years, but he will understand.  The two of you can’t be together, not yet, and for now, we have last night.  And today,” he added hopefully.

The two of them stood together silently, an easiness coming over them as they held one another.

Garlan was promised to Leonette, and he would do his duty by her and his family.  And when he told Renly that he would not lay with another he meant it.  His sense of honour would not allow him to disrespect his marriage vows with an indulgence.  But as he stood there, with his arms around another man, around _this_ man, he realised that Renly could never be an indulgence.

There had been others, men and women, but they had all felt like a game to be won, not an experience to be savoured.  From the moment he met Renly those years ago he had wanted him, and now that they had been together he wanted more.

And he did not want Loras to have him.

Renly pulled back and reached up, running his fingers through Garlan’s curls.  He looked at him longingly, becoming lost in those golden eyes.  And suddenly Renly’s body started to react to being held by Garlan.

Garlan was pleased that for the moment Loras was forgotten by Renly, that they could have this time together.  There would be opportunity yet in the hours to come to speak to Loras, make him understand.  But until then they had each other.

Taking Renly’s chin in his hand, Garlan tilted his head towards him and leant down, their lips softly meeting and then becoming more urgent.  Renly’s arms snaked up around Garlan’s neck and he pressed himself tightly against him.  Their desire became a need and Garlan pushed Renly backwards against the wall, kissing him all the while.

Hand pressed into the small of Renly’s back, Garlan kissed his neck, delighting in the moan of pleasure that it elicited.  Renly’s nails dragged down Garlan’s back and it made Garlan shiver with delight.   In response Garlan hooked his hand under Renly’s thigh and pulled his leg up to his hip, pressing himself as closely to Renly as he could.  It felt like they were becoming one person.

“Renly,” Garlan whispered urgently, “Renly…”

 

 


End file.
